The cold wind is blowing and the streets are getting dark,
I'm writting you a letter and I don't know where to start.
The bells will be ringing Saint John the Divine,
I get a little lonely everyday around this time.
The music plays all night in Little Italy,
The lights will be going up on old Rockafella's tree.
People window shoppin' on 5th avenue,
All I want for Christmas is you.